


Different Ways We Could Be

by thethaumas



Series: Micro Fics [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Draco Malfoy, Auror Harry, Auror Partners, Auror Ron, Established Relationship, Getting Together, Healer Draco, M/M, Potions Master Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-03
Updated: 2015-04-03
Packaged: 2018-03-21 02:41:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3674391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thethaumas/pseuds/thethaumas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry gets hurt on an auror mission and gets treated by Draco, who accidentally admits something when he thinks Harry is asleep. After they come together, having an auror for a boyfriend is a bit more taxing on Draco's nerves than he'd like. </p><p>Aurors Harry and Draco spend time together, learning they can trust each other. </p><p>Draco broke up with Harry a year ago, but the hurt still stings just as fresh as it had in the beginning--but perhaps not for long.</p><p>And a few more universes where they might have come together in different ways. Responses to a tumblr fic meme.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Auror Harry and Healer Draco

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt fills from a tumblr fic meme. All prompts are from this list [here](http://thethaumas.tumblr.com/post/114758921904/send-me-a-ship-and-one-of-these-and-ill-write-a).

**12\. Things you said when you thought I was asleep**

St. Mungo’s smelled even more pungent than the hospital wing at Hogwarts, and Harry was tired of how familiar he was becoming with this place. This time it really was his own damn recklessness that had him staying overnight as the bones in his legs grew back after the suspect he and Ron had followed decided to engage in a fight.

Harry shifted in his bed and closed his eyes, he had no clock in here and he was too tired to bother with a _tempus_ , but he figured it must be late and he really just wanted to sleep. While he was trying not to mull over his own stupidity and get some rest, the door to his room slid open and he heard soft footfalls as someone entered. His first reaction was to tense up and open his eyes, but he knew Kingsley had guards around him and at this hour it was likely only a mediwitch popping by to make sure his vitals were okay. But then the soft footfalls stopped by his bed, and whoever it was didn’t start with diagnostic spells. Harry was about to open his eyes when they started speaking.

"We really have to stop meeting like this," the person said, and it only took a moment for Harry to realize it was Malfoy. He’d gone on to become a healer after the war, and with how often Harry ended up in St. Mungo’s, he found himself at the receiving end of Malfoy’s care enough that they’d developed a strange kind of friendship.

Malfoy let out a long burst of air and then his hand was on the crown of Harry’s head. “I can’t stand seeing you like this. Every time they come bursting in through emergency with you in tow, I’m worried that this will be the time I can’t save you.” Malfoy’s voice was soft, but full of pain and it pulled at Harry’s heart to hear. He’d not realized Malfoy cared about him this much, or even really much at all. He might have hoped, especially after seeing what a good man Malfoy had grown into, but he didn’t want to fool himself. Malfoy’s fingers started carding through Harry’s hair and he spoke again, “I don’t know how I’d keep going if I lost you.”

Then he let out another shuddering breath, his fingers tightening in Harry’s hair for a moment before he took his hand back and started rattling off the diagnostic spells. He immediately took in a sharp breath and hissed, “You’re awake?” And Harry could hear him take a few steps back.

Harry opened his eyes to see Malfoy looking at him with a mix of horror and mortification. He could see Malfoy closing himself off with each passing second and it made something inside Harry feel cold and wanting. “Did you mean that?” He asked, trying to hold on to the softer Malfoy that had whispered those words.

Malfoy seemed to be warring with himself, his eyes darted from Harry to the door and back. Then he nodded, once, and said in a wrecked voice, “Yes," and then watched Harry with wide eyes for his reaction.

Harry didn’t really know what that meant for them now. He couldn’t tell what Malfoy’s words really meant for how he felt about Harry —but Harry could guess and he knew the ground on which he walked now was both fragile and unknown. He wasn’t even fully sure himself what he wanted from Malfoy, but he knew right now that he didn’t want Malfoy to walk out of his life. So he extended his hand and asked, “Will you stay with me?” And when Malfoy grasped his hand like a man who had been waiting ages for a lifesaver, Harry felt something warm and pleased uncurl in his chest.

**18. things you said when you were scared**

Harry took in a slow breath through his nose and then let it out of his mouth while he assessed the bonds he was stuck in. His wrists were bound with something cold that buzzed with power, and he seemed to be in some sort of cell. They’d drugged him when they captured him, and he could still feel whatever the potion had been pulling at his awareness and making him foggy minded. 

There had been an uptick in dark magic activity up in the Shetland Islands, it was so strong it was infecting the air with a dark foulness that left the taste of rot and metal on the back of Harry’s tongue. They were investigating it, but Kingsley said they had to be careful about sending aurors out to the islands since they had no idea what they were dealing with. 

It became apparent as soon as Harry stepped foot on land after using the portkey to travel. The air here was thick with decay and an inherent wrongness that told Harry immediately whatever was happening here, those involved were bending magic in a way it should never be. He was very familiar with the taste of dark magic after destroying Voldemort’s horcruxes. 

He started searching around, and they’d quickly gotten the drop on him, a dozen people in black robes reminiscent of the Death Eaters, and Harry felt something cold and ugly wake up inside of him. Before he could do anything, they’d petrified him. 

And now he was waking up after they’d taken him through the third session of trying to drain his magical core. Apparently they were under the impression that they could separate it from Harry’s being, and since he’d killed one of the most powerful wizards of their time, they figured he must be the most powerful now. Harry still wasn’t sure what they wanted to  _do_ with his magic if they could drain it out of him, but he certainly hoped he could find a way out of his prison before he learned. So far their attempts just left Harry feeling weak and tired, but by the way they had three of their stronger men come in every morning to put him through a ringer of _cruciatus_ to try to get him to flay apart, Harry was pretty confident that they were having no success. And he intended to keep it that way for as long as he could--even though he still wasn’t sure really what was going on. 

All he did know was that it was completely foolish to come here without proper backup, but he figured Kingsley must have sent out more aurors after Harry had never checked in again. 

Harry leaned back against the wall behind him, trying to catch his breath again, his lungs felt like they were on fire and every nerve he had seemed to be frayed. He flexed his hands, but the bonds still held fast. He tried to call on his magic to explode out of him and get him out of this, but though he could feel it roiling within him, angry and ready to strike, he couldn’t get it to bend how he wanted to just to free his hands--he was too exhausted. 

He was just about to close his eyes and try to regroup when there was a loud boom from beyond the cell he was in. Harry immediately snapped upright, and started looking around wildly, as though the cold stone walls he was being held in would reveal what the sound was. 

Then a second explosive sound that was loud enough to leave Harry’s ears ringing, and the enchanted stone wall they used to transport him through fell away in a cloud of gravel and smoke. Harry tried to blink past the debris that clouded his vision, but without his hands to rub the dust out of his eyes they just stung and he couldn’t see anything. 

He could hear though. And he heard someone saying, “Harry, Harry!” and then a blurry form was right in front of him in dark robes but with a pale face. Hands grabbed his shoulders and pulled him forward into a hug and Harry heard Draco’s voice in his ear, tight from worry and desperation, “Harry, we thought we lost you. We couldn’t identify your magical signature anywhere, and then these--these fools”Draco spat the word out, “Started spouting off about using your power to lay waste to all non magical beings in the world, and we’d thought—we’d thought—” But Draco could finish saying whatever it was they’d thought, he just buried his face in the crook of Harry’s neck and let out a long shuddering breath. 

“I’m okay,” Harry said, wishing he could wrap his arms around Draco in turn. “I’m here, they couldn’t get what they wanted.” 

Draco pulled back then, to look at him with a concerned and assessing gaze. “Oh Merlin,” he said with a touch of mortification and hurried to undo the magical bindings that still held Harry captive. 

Harry immediately shook out his arms before he wrapped them around Draco in return, clinging on to him just as tightly as he was being clung to. 

“Don’t you ever do something this fucking idiotic again,” Draco’s voice was rough and thick and Harry ached from it, wishing he could have spared Draco from the worry and pain. 

Instead though, he twined his fingers in Draco’s hair and pulled him in for a rough kiss. When they parted he breathed between their mouths and said, “Thank you for finding me.”

 

**5. things you didn’t say at all**

It was hard for Draco when they started dating, he’d been there to patch Harry up so often in St. Mungo’s that he couldn’t help fretting every time he’d come in to work that today would be the day Harry would be brought in again. This had already been his reality before they’d become more friendly, but now that he was spending more and more time in Harry’s flat, and sharing the same bed, the worry felt sharper, throwing his days a little off kilter all the time. 

He tried to nudge Harry to taking less dangerous cases, but he already knew it was a losing battle. It was Harry Potter, the boy who ran into danger with hardly a thought, and now he’d grown into a man who perhaps thought a bit more, but his need to go in and save others seemed to burn just as bright. So Draco tried instead to press his worries into Harry’s skin when he would massage the salve he brewed to ease bruises, and when he’d mend Harry’s broken bones he tried to weave into his spells extra protection for next time. He would kiss his relief that Harry had come back to him perhaps not unbroken, but at least whole and alive, onto the top of Harry’s head. 

It didn’t seem to do much to deter Harry from continuing to throw himself into danger, as time and time again Draco found himself in the position of healing his reckless boyfriend with Harry quirking a grin at him in thanks. Draco sometimes wanted to smack that grin right off Harry’s face to make him realize how hard it was for Draco to have him keep coming home hurt. 

Then at night Harry would make his own apologies with soft kisses to Draco’s flesh, and reverently gentle touches as they came together in bed. And Draco would forgive him, for how could he begrudge Harry doing what he wanted? How could he make Harry stop trying to do what he could to help others, when that was what Draco tried to do every day to atone for his actions in the past, and to hope that his work now could even make up a little for who he hurt before. 

He couldn’t. So he just tried to keep Harry healthy and whole, patching him up when he came home with a hexed hand, or singed skin and clothing. 

But, then an undercover mission where Draco had anticipated Harry being out of contact for a month, went overlong. Two months in Draco learned that the whole mission was cocked up and somehow they’d lost contact with Harry and lost track of his signature. 

Draco had stormed into Minister Kingsley’s office in a rage that had the ministry memos incinerating as he passed.  _How could they have fucked this up so badly?_  Draco yelled, not caring that his voice likely carried  _far_  out of the minister’s office. This was Harry, and Draco  _would not lose him_. 

He was not allowed into the investigation, not being either a ministry employee or an auror, but that didn’t mean anything to him. Making himself a fixture at the Granger-Weasley household solved that problem right quick, as Hermione wouldn’t let herself get shuttered out of the search from her best friend either. 

It took far too long. 

By the time they found Harry he was half starved, his magic weak and drained, and he’d lost far too much weight. He could hardly lift his head to look at them when they found him down in the cellar of a dilapidated and previously unused manor that the group of young upstarts who thought they knew something about dark magic were using as headquarters. Draco wanted to eviscerate each of them in turn. Instead he scooped Harry up, letting Ron and Hermione deal with the criminals, and brought them home. He’d take what he needed from St. Mungo’s. He wasn’t letting Harry out of his sight even for a moment. 

A month after, Harry recovered enough to start moving around again, and he’d certainly tried to get up far earlier than Draco would let him, being just as stubborn about it. He wasn’t allowed back at work for another month, they had him on paid leave that neither of them really cared about—Draco was just grateful that even if Harry had gotten extra stubborn and tried to go back to work early, he’d just be sent home again. 

Then, one morning as Draco was drinking his tea at the kitchen table and reading over his mail, Harry came shuffling in to the room. He grasped the doorframe briefly and winced in pain before he could continue and made his way over to the table. Draco was watching him intently, he knew Harry could make it to the table, but he was on high alert in case he was needed to assist. Harry slapped his palm onto the tabletop once he’d made it and gave Draco a small smile, then he put his other hand down right in front of Draco, not breaking their eye contact until he moved his hand away again. He nodded down at the table where his hand had been, not saying anything. 

Intrigued, Draco looked down and let out a small gasp. On the table lay Harry’s auror badge. 

He snapped his head back up to stare at Harry, his eyes wide and questioning. Could this really mean what he thought? Was Harry actually going to resign? 

Harry just smiled at him, gentle, fond, and loving. He reached over to stroke Draco’s cheek and said, “I’m done.” and then he leaned closer and kissed his apologies into Draco’s lips. Saying,  _I’m sorry for having worried you for so much, and for so long,_ and,  _I’m sorry for putting you through all of that._  And, of course,  _I love you too much to keep hurting you like this_. 


	2. Auror Partners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this universe, Harry and Draco are auror partners. Here are some glimpses into their lives.

** 2\. Things you said through your teeth.  **

 “What do you mean we did everything we could?” Harry yelled, waving his arms about to emphasize his point. 

 They were out in Sussex, having traced the magical signature of one of the witches who they suspected to be involved in the kidnapping of seven magical children. It had been a trying few weeks of following leads that went up in a puff of smoke, and knowing that every day that passed without finding the children, the less likely they were to be found alive. 

This had been grating equally on Harry and Draco’s minds as they followed lead after fruitless lead. And now, the suspect they had followed out here had turned out to be nothing but a red herring, the young woman just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Which, of course meant that their real suspect was lost in the maze of London somewhere, harder for them to track from here than a breath in the wind. 

 “We followed the lead that we thought was sound. You agreed she was our likely suspect, Potter.” Draco said through clenched teeth. “Don’t you dare try to pretend this is all on me.” He knew this case was running Harry dry, he was pretty sure the Harry hadn’t slept a whole night since they’d been assigned the case, but that didn’t mean he was the only one affected. Draco wasn’t sleeping either. He kept thinking if he could just get another look at a clue, examine it a different way, and they could solve the thing. 

 Harry sighed and scuffed his shoe against the sidewalk. “I know,” he said and made a frustrated noise while tugging at his hair. “It shouldn’t be this hard to find them.” 

 “No it shouldn't, but we will.” Draco said vehemently. 

Harry nodded and quirked a smirk at him, “So I’m back to Potter now, am I?” 

“When you’re being a little shit, yeah.” Draco said with a laugh.

 

 

**17\. Things you said I wish you hadn’t.**

 It was a slow kind of Friday night, but Draco had become a bit accustomed to these. Ever since he had been assigned as Harry’s auror partner, his life had taken a turn for the even stranger. At first they’d fought just as viciously as they always had, but after working cases where they were forced to have each other’s backs all the time they started to develop an easy familiarity. Draco knew far more about the way Harry would plan an ambush, and what his fighting stance looked like, than he knew about Blaise’s favourite foods. It was odd learning more about Harry and slowly finding himself in the position of going from grudging respect, to seeking out Harry's company after work, and calling each other by their given names.

And now they regularly would find themselves at Harry’s place some night during the weekend, when their coupled friends were out on date night, eating take away, or Harry’s strange cooking experiments, and trying to figure out how to get a muggle telly to work with magic. So far, it had been a number of rather explosive failures, but they were determined and Draco didn’t know anyone more stubborn that the two of them together. 

Tonight though, they weren’t experimenting. Tonight Draco found himself sprawled across Harry’s couch, leaning heavily against a similarly leaning Harry as they ate mediocre curry and drank far too much wine. Draco had brought it over, but then he’d realized one bottle was not enough for how shit a week they’d had and popped back to the manor to nick three more from his father’s stores. And now they were well and truly wasted. 

 Draco zoned back in to the present and was surprised to find himself tracing idle patterns on Harry’s leg, instead of snatching his hand away he felt hypnotized by the movement and couldn’t stop. They’d reached the part of the night where things were quieter, it was probably around three or four in the morning by Draco’s estimation and the whole world seemed softer and unreal at this time. It was like he could say anything, or do anything, and it wouldn’t really matter. 

 “You know, sometimes I wonder if it was worth it,” Harry said, apropos of nothing, and giving Draco no hints where his thoughts were heading. 

“What? All the wine?” Draco asked and tried to turn his head to look at Harry but just ended up slumping even more into his shoulder. 

Harry rocked his shoulder and dislodged Draco saying, “No, you prat, being here. You know?” 

 Unable to hold himself up anymore, Draco slipped down and ended up with his head in Harry’s lap, and looking up at him from this angle made him seem even more unreal, untouchable almost. “No,” Draco said after a moment when he had caught the thread of the conversation again. “I have no idea what you’re on about, Harry.” 

Harry dropped his hand onto Draco’s forehead and peered down at him in a way that made him look like a strange squinting owl. “I mean, I had a choice once. To stay or to go.” He let out a sigh so big and weary then it sounded like it would have been more in place coming from an ancient wizard, like what Draco imagined Merlin would look like were he still around. “I decided to stay,” Harry said, and he wasn’t squinting at Draco anymore, and the lighthearted oddness of the hour was sucked away in an instant. Draco felt a chill seep into his bones at the look Harry wore. “I’m not sure always if it was the right choice,” Harry finished. He didn’t look untouchable anymore, he looked fragile like when Draco had found a piece of cracked glass when exploring the attic in the Manor, and when he just breathed on it, it fell to pieces. It was too fragile to even withstand the air from his lungs. 

“Of course it is, you’re here.” Draco said, not even sure where the words came from, or if they were the right things to say. He wasn’t even sure what Harry was talking about, but the unreality of the hour, and all the wine he’d drunk, couldn’t dim how somber and melancholy Harry looked in this moment, and Draco wanted to do whatever he could to take it away. 

“But what if I was meant to be elsewhere?” Harry said and finally looked back down at Draco, and the loss in the depths of his eyes stole the words right out of Draco’s head. “I died, Draco.” he said, and even the thrill of hearing his name from Harry’s lips that he still felt, did nothing for the encroaching horror of the truth Harry was saying. “Maybe I was supposed to stay dead.” 

Harry’s hand clenched where it was still resting on Draco’s forehead and Draco reached up to take it in his, cradling it gently, feeling the very real and dark fear that if he even breathed too heavily now, Harry would fly apart. He pressed their hands together and the spread his fingers and Harry mirrored the movement, letting him size up their hands together. 

Draco felt a bit like he was floundering, like no matter what he said in this moment it wouldn’t be enough, but that he needed to say something to bring back Harry, the Harry who laugh and made fun of him, and who made him weird dinners. 

Draco swallowed hard against the fear he would muck everything up, and the fear of the truth Harry had just revealed—he’d died and Draco wasn’t sure he’d ever come to terms with that and couldn’t imagine how Harry must be handling it—and he tried to come up with something to say. He didn’t know what he’d do without Harry in his life, but he was not eager to find out. 

“I think you’re right where you’re supposed to be,” he said at last, and meaning it with his whole being.

 

**1. things you said at 1 am**

They don’t plan to stay up late talking, it just keeps happening. Sometimes they just need time to decompress after a long week. This is how Harry rationalizes finding himself sprawled out on his stomach on Draco’s bed, while Draco has on a pair of headphones and is listening to the old cassette player Harry and Ron found while going through random muggle tech shops a few weeks ago. 

There’s something about watching the way the expressions flitter across Draco’s face as he loses himself in the music. Harry’s pretty sure it’s one of the classical tapes they’d found, which he doesn’t dislike, but they don’t speak to him the way the music is obviously affecting Draco. But then, Harry’s still just getting used to how much more open Draco is as a whole person now that they’ve gotten closer. 

Draco’s eyes are closed, and he’s wearing a gentle smile that keeps spreading wider as he conducts an invisible orchestra with his hands. Harry props his chin in his hand so he can watch Draco from a better vantage point, utterly charmed. He really just wants to lean over and kiss the smile Draco has on, but he couldn’t take ruining the sweet calm that has enveloped them right now when Draco rejects him—and Harry’s near sure he will, since Draco tends to like his boyfriends much more sophisticated and put together than Harry. 

Harry’s never been the smartest, nor has he ever understood fashion—not like his hair would let him tame it if he did. His fingers are too square, his hair will never lie flat, but at least it covers his ears, and he couldn’t name the difference between something composed by Bach or Mozart. But none of that stops him from looking at Draco and  _wanting_  with a deep ferocity. 

Feeling like his heart is tearing itself apart and putting itself back together as he watches Draco, Harry whispers into the quiet between them, “I wish I was enough for you,” the words escape his lips without any thought, to his horror. He flops forward onto the bed again, burying his face in the blanket.  _How could he have said that?_ Perhaps Draco couldn’t hear over the music, though. 

Draco shifts next to him and Harry can hear the rapid clicking as he presses some of the buttons on the cassette player. “Listen to this part, it’s my favourite,” he says before slipping the headphones over Harry’s ears. 

Harry raises his head to look at Draco in curiosity, but then Draco reaches out to cover his eyes and says, “No, like this. Just listen.” Then he presses play.

The music starts in the middle of a swelling crescendo, and Harry gets why Draco likes this part when it falls with light pattering sound. It’s like waking up after a pleasant dream. 

Draco’s hand falls away from his eyes, but before Harry thinks to open them the bed dips and then a pressure against his lips. Harry opens his eyes in surprise and finds himself looking at Draco’s closed eyes. 

Just as quickly as he kissed Harry, he retreats. When he opens his eyes, they’re sparking with mirth. Harry pulls off the headphones, unable to form words in his mind aside from  _why?_  and he must be wearing that one all over his face because Draco smiles at him, a small shy thing and says, “Of course you’re enough Harry.” 

Harry’s heart swells at the words and he can’t help his own wide ridiculous grin from spreading across his face before he reaches out to pull Draco close again and kiss him properly. 


	3. Broken up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Draco were dating for a while, before Draco broke it off. A year later, he's engaged, and Harry sees the two of them at a Ministry gala

** 22. things you said after it was over  **

Harry has to go out to get some air. He feels like he’s getting strangled having to continue to mingle at this godforsaken Ministry gala. There was no way he would have gone, but Hermione must have recruited Luna to get him to go, since she had come to ask him to go with her, as friends. He’s never been able to tell Luna no. 

He escapes onto the upper patio on top of the roof and absconded into a far corner where he can privately sit down and look out on the stars. Time to breathe is what he needs, especially after seeing--Harry shakes his head and swallows. It’d been so long since they’d been together, it really shouldn’t hurt anymore. 

Logic didn’t stop seeing Draco waltzing expertly with his blushing fiancée from feeling like taking another cruciatus curse. 

Harry’s eyes seek out the constellation Draco shared a name with, without even fully thinking about doing so, and he takes in a shuddering breath and holds it. Draco had pointed it out to him back at the start of their relationship, one day when they were up stealing time together after curfew and had run up to the astronomy tower. Faces flushed from the cold, they’d huddled with one another for warmth. Then Draco straightened and pointed out the stars to Harry, showing him his namesake with an air of pride. 

Now, Harry lets out his breath and tries to swallow down the sob that wants to escape. He pushes his glasses up on top of his head and rubs at his eyes, trying to keep the stinging at bay, and keep the tears inside. 

The thing of it is, the thing is that they’d always known they’d crash and burn. Way back at the start Harry knew that getting involved with Draco could only lead down a road of pain, for had that not been what the road they’d shared up to that point consisted of? And yet, against all odds, they’d been good for each other. Being with Draco made Harry realize he could want things for himself, and go against expectations, and that the people who really cared for him wouldn’t leave him just for  _being himself_. Harry was sure he must have helped Draco grow too--but these days. These days he had no way of knowing. 

Shoes crunch on the gravel, the sound heading toward Harry. He doesn’t need to look up, even from here he can identify Draco’s scent over the sweet smell of the blooming trees on the patio. 

“What are you doing out here?” Draco asks, his voice sounding farther away than the distance between them. 

“What are you?” Harry retorts, feeling too frayed open to be witty. He’s always given Draco too much of himself, and now Draco has run away with all those small parts of Harry and he doesn’t know how to get them back and be whole again. “Isn’t your fiancée worried about you?” he asks after a minute of silence between them, the words dripping with scorn. 

Harry can hear Draco suck in a breath and then, “You’d probably like her, you know.” 

And now Harry finally rips his hands away from his eyes to glare at Draco, not even bothering to slide his glasses back on. He doesn’t even want to see Draco fully. “You’re a fucking asshole.” he says and stands up, putting his glasses back on properly but refusing to look at Draco as he walks away. 

“I still love you, you know.” Draco’s voice carries across the space between them, morose and defeated and Harry’s heart  _aches_  for wanting him. 

He can’t give in though, he can’t. Draco had left him to get married. Draco had left to sire an heir, since his name was more important than his happiness. Draco had Harry’s heart, and then he’d absconded away with it, and now Harry is left with nothing but brittle pieces of himself that don’t work together. 

Harry straightens his spine and says bitterly, “You have a funny way of showing it,” before he apparates away. He’ll make apologies to Luna later, he cannot be around anyone now, he needs to be alone so he can let himself fall apart completely. 

 

**11\. Things you said when you were drunk**

  
Harry had been frequenting this bar for a few years, never often enough for him to remember the bartender’s name, but still just enough for him to know he was safe here from anyone who just wanted _a minute of Harry Potter’s time, please_. Harry Potter was certainly not in the mood to give anyone a minute of his time, not this week, and definitely not tonight.   
  
He’d been doing relatively okay recently. After Draco had broken it off between them, and then immediately started courting a young pureblood witch, Harry had been a wreck. He could hardly even remember much of the months that followed, everything from them seemed like a dark foggy blur of depression and sleeping far too much. But he’d been better, it had been over a year now, and while he still had no interest in trusting anyone like he had with Draco, he’d been seeing his friends more often and had gotten involved in a few charity projects to keep him in the upward and forward momentum he’d started on.   
  
It shouldn’t have been such a shock to see Draco and his new fiancee at the ministry ball over the weekend, and yet it was. Harry felt like he’d been scooped out and gutted all over again as he watched them glide effortlessly across the floor. Then when Draco had the audacity to follow him outside and proclaim he still loved Harry it was far, far too much for Harry to take.   
  
He’d closed off his floo and had not seen anyone in the days since, instead keeping himself in bed, or like tonight, trying to forget ever knowing Draco Malfoy with the help of a lot of alcohol. So far, it wasn’t working very well. Especially since this morning he’d awoken to not only letters from his worried friends, but another from Narcissa. He’d grown closer to her after the war, she had for some reason decided to take Harry under her wing and did what she could to keep the reporters at bay, while also inviting him over often for tea. It was strange, a little, but Harry really loved their relationship, she was like the kind of sweet aunt he had read about often in stories, and had ached for as a child.   
  
But after they’d broken up, Harry felt off and uncomfortable about keeping up the closeness he’d developed with Draco’s mother. Even though Narcissa wrote him often, at first scathing letters about how angry she was with her son for making such a stupid decision, especially when she wasn’t even in the country. Then they’d become more worried, and a little resigned, when Harry would not write back. It warmed his heart to see she still wanted to try to connect with him, but he couldn’t bring himself to write her.   
  
Someone slumping down onto the stool next to Harry’s pulled him out of his reverie. There was no reason for someone to take that stool, the bar was very empty for this time of night. Harry was pretty sure it must be the middle of the week, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about the days anymore. He turned to assess the intruder on his personal space and felt his heart rate speed up immediately when he realized it was Draco. He must be drunker than he thought for not noticing the other man at all until now.   
  
Harry really did not want to be around Draco in this moment, or ever again in fact, so he pushed away from the bar and started to fish some money from his pocket. Then Draco’s hand wrapped around his forearm, stilling his movement. Harry tried to shake it off and leave, but Draco held fast. Harry finally turned to fully face Draco, aiming the harshest glare he could muster, and was surprised by the high spots of color on Draco’s cheeks and how foggy his eyes looked—Draco was trashed. Something deep within Harry tried to awaken at seeing Draco like this, concerned and wanting to care for him all at once, and Harry swallowed that part of him down. He had no right to those feeling anymore, Draco had made sure of that.

“What do you want, Draco?” Harry asked with a sigh, hearing the resignation in his tone and not bothering to buffer it.

Draco blinked up at him for a moment, his hand tightening on Harry’s arm then he slowly opened his mouth. “I broke it off,” he said, looking like he was still not sure of the words himself.

It felt like Draco had punched him in the gut, Harry’s breath was stolen away so quickly. He couldn’t allow himself to hope that meant anything with regards to himself. So Harry said nothing and just kept staring coldly at Draco.

“Mum stopped talking to me,” Draco said, staring up at Harry with such an earnest expression Harry had to look away. “She said I’d been a fool, and she went off on a trip to Brazil. She’s been gone for months now.” Draco slapped an uncoordinated hand over his mouth and looked down at it with wide eyes and then looked back up at Harry, unfocused and cheery in his drunkenness. “Not a word.”

“Draco, why are you telling me this?” Harry tried to shrug off his hand again, to no avail, it seemed that despite Draco’s foggy mind, he still had his strength and was determined to use it to keep Harry where he was. “For that matter, how did you even find me here?”

Draco’s gaze tracked across Harry’s face, his expression unguarded in a moment of rare openness, and his eyes held such deep longing and regret it made Harry feel split open all over again. “I can always find you, Harry.” He said softly. Then he looked down, a melancholy smile on his face. “I just wanted you to hear it first.” He squeezed Harry’s arm again and looked up at him again. “I was so wrong Harry, I thought if I married and had an heir it would fulfill my duties—but I could have done all of that—” Draco swallowed and Harry saw tears escape his eyes, “and stay with you. Instead I ruined everything trying to do what I thought my father wanted. What I thought was necessary.”

It was both everything he had wanted to hear, and everything he did not want to know in this moment. Harry was fine hating Draco for hurting him, well, not fine, but he could probably get by. To hear him full of regret right now, on the heels of his declaration at the ministry ball, it was too much—and yet, it wasn’t enough. Harry didn’t know what Draco wanted from him now, his forgiveness? Why should _Harry_ be the one to bow in forgiveness first? Draco had _destroyed_ him. He took hold of the hand Draco had on his arm, and the way Draco’s expression perked up in hope shattered Harry’s heart all over again. But he did continue with his movement of removing Draco’s hand from his person before releasing it. “What made you change your mind?” he asked, his voice rough from trying to hold in all the things he was feeling.

“Mum told me it was most important that I’m happy,” Draco said, and Harry nearly rolled his eyes. As much as he loved Narcissa, hearing that Draco was still dictating his decisions based on one of his parents’ approval was disheartening. “But, more than that, I realized I couldn’t just turn off loving you—” he sought out Harry’s gaze again, his eyes swimming and red from the tears he was still shedding. “That I didn’t want to.”

Harry sucked in a loud breath and had to sit back down on the stool. “Draco,” he said, wounded and wondering all at once.

“I don’t expect your forgiveness Harry, I don’t deserve it,” Draco let out a long shuddering breath and placed his hands on the bar, palms down. “But I wanted you to know that I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for what I did to you.” Then, quieter, “to us.”

Crossing his arms onto the bar so he could pillow his head in them, Harry leaned forward and placed his head on his arms. “You fucking _ruined_ me, Draco,” he said, his words muffled in his arms, but he knew Draco heard by the way he stiffened beside Harry. “I can’t forgive you for that.”

“I understand,” Draco said, his warmth at Harry’s side shifting as he pulled away.

Harry turned his head in his arms so he could look at the man who had torn his heart out and stomped all over it, at the boy he’d hated in his youth, at the young man he’d grown to rely and depend on, at the man who still held his heart and so many other small pieces of Harry that he’d given over without realizing it. He was still hurting, the wounds were deep and jagged and the scabs that had slowly formed were recently torn off so they felt like they were bleeding fresh all over again. There was no way he was ready to open himself up to trusting Draco again, but looking at how crestfallen Draco was, and how seeing that made something in Harry’s heart beat in sympathy and a need to make Draco happy again, Harry knew he wasn’t going to be done with Draco any time soon. “But maybe,” he said and watched as Draco looked back at him, his gray eyes red, but he’d swiped away his tears now and just looked a bit confused now.

“Maybe you can try to convince me to.” Harry said and watched as hope filled Draco’s expression, and felt himself thrum with shared hope. He still hated Draco a lot for what he’d done, and he knew they had many fights ahead of them. He also knew that he wasn’t going to just give in and let Draco back into his life, but it was important Draco know it wasn’t pointless to try. Their story was too rocky and too passionate already for Harry to throw it aside when another chance was being presented to him like this. Even if he wasn’t sure he even wanted to take it right now.   
  
“I’ll try,” Draco said with a small watery smile that had Harry’s heart beating even harder—even now he was still so far gone over this man.


	4. Little Snippets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A collection of little snippets of a life for Harry and Draco that is a little quieter than the others.

**7. things you said while we were driving**

“I still don’t see the reason we had to take this infernal muggle contraption,” Draco griped while holding tightly to the passenger door. “We can apparate, or even floo! Flooing would be good!” He turned to Harry with a wide grin, trying to appeal to him to get them out of the car. 

Harry just laughed and gave Draco a fond look before returning his attention to the road. He said, “Come on Draco, you said you wanted to come on this trip.” 

Draco huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “This was before I realized you wanted to take the road trip in this death trap.” 

“Hey! We worked hard on this car!” Ron objected from the backseat, leaning forward to poke his head between the front seats, “If you don’t want to appreciate it, you can come sit back here with Hermione.” he said, teasing. 

Draco turned to glare at Ron, “This stupid road trip was all your idea Weasley, what is even the point?” 

“It’s exciting,” Harry said with a grin, “We get to see the world in a different way, this way.” 

“I don’t think you Gryffindors can tell the difference between something that is exciting, and something that can kill you.” Draco said with a frown. Then he irritably swiped at his head were Hermione had blown a waft of air. 

“This is perfectly safe, we’ve charmed the whole thing in case of accidents. Do you really think I’d trust Harry to drive us without taking a few precautions?” she said from directly behind Draco, wearing a big grin. 

Harry turned to give her an affronted look, “Hey! I’m a good driver.” 

Hermione shoved Ron aside to lay a hand on Harry’s shoulder, “Harry, you know I love you, but  _come on_.” 

Draco slumped down further in the passenger’s seat and tried to hide a grin behind his crossed arms. “I trust you, Harry.” 

Shaking his head, Harry let out a laugh, “I wonder why I don’t believe that.” Then he turned and winked at Draco, giving him a look with with such love that Draco had to bury his head in his arms to cover the flush that he knew had taken over his face. 

 

**21. things you said that i wasn’t meant to hear**

He didn’t like to think of himself as a snoop, but Draco was unendingly curious. So when he was on his way back to dinner from a trip to the washroom, he couldn’t help making his steps a little lighter so he could hear the conversation filtering in through the door. 

“Thanks for looking into this, Ron,” Harry was saying, and Draco could hear something like papers shuffling. “I know it’s a misuse of your position and all, but I really appreciate it.” 

“Yeah, well, Malfoy isn’t terrible anymore. And if I were in his shoes I don’t know what I’d do of you or 'Moine disappeared.” Weasley said and Draco was even more confused. 

What could Harry have asked him to look into? And what did that— _Pansy_. Draco sucked in a breath when he thought of it, of  _her_. After the war she’d vanished without any trace, and missing her felt like he was missing his wand. Off balance and like he couldn’t quite face the world without her. He did, of course, it had been a few years now. He’d had to keep going and while working his frayed connections to work under one of the most renowned lawyers in Wizarding Britain, he’d also improved his relationship with Potter to the point he’d become  _Harry_  and their hexes became kisses and late nights talking over strange muggle take away. 

But even so, Draco missed Pansy fiercely and could not go a day without wondering where she’d stolen off to. 

“You do realize the chance she’s not obliviated, or worse, is incredibly slim right?” Granger’s voice carried concern. 

It took an age for Harry to reply, and in that time every horrible scenario Draco had ever imagined for Pansy flashed through his mind. “I know,” Harry spoke gruffly. “That’s why I don’t want Draco to know anything until we’ve found her.” 

“All right, Harry, but I think we’ve still a ways to go. I tracked her through France then Spain, and then Greece in the months following the war, but so far I can’t find anything more recent.” There was a pause, and Draco could feel his heart in his throat. “But we’ll find her, Harry. We’ve got to.” 

Draco put a hand on the kitchen door, letting it creak so they’d know he was coming, trying to tame the whirlwind of thoughts. Harry was looking for Pansy.  _For him_. He wanted to find her, and with Harry Potter on the case Draco felt like maybe he finally had a hope of seeing his best friend again. 

Even more, he felt near to bursting with joy from how much Harry obviously cared about him. 

He waited, letting them pretend they were sneaky. He’d pretend he hadn’t heard. Draco didn’t think he could take the torture of the small updates until she was found. He trusted Harry would update him when ready. He trusted Harry would find her.

 

**9. things you said when i was crying**

Harry had been putting it off for a while, but since they were thinking of renovating Grimmauld to turn it into an orphanage, it really was time to clear the old place out. He had already worked with Hermione, Ron, Draco, Ginny, and a number of other friends that popped in when they had the time. And they’d tackled the majority of the house--there was just one room left. Sirius’s room. Harry didn’t want to dismantle it and put his godfather’s leftover life into boxes, but it was time. 

A few hours in and Harry was sitting on the ground in the closet, having defeated the spell work that kept one of the floorboards stuck in its place. Once the floorboard was removed, Harry discovered that inside was a rather hefty box. He ended up sitting with his back to one of the walls while he went through the random trinkets that Sirius had seen fit to keep and hide from his family. 

It was always hard just to think about his godfather, and now, flipping through the letters he had from James, Remus, Peter, and even a few from Lily, it woke the spiky ball of grief Harry still wasn’t sure he was ready to deal with. Even so, he found himself reading the letters from his parents and their friends, feeling like he was getting to know them just a little better as he became familiar with the way Lily would slant her letters and dot her I’s, or how James’s cursive got even sloppier when he seemed to be excited. Remus’s guidance and gentle nudging came through, even from when he was so much younger. And even seeing Peter’s hesitant scrawl and his kind words to Sirius opened a well of grief within Harry. 

His eyes were hot and prickly, and he could feel the tears rolling down his cheeks, but he couldn’t stop reading. Each word make him crave even more, made him feel even more keenly how much he’d lost that he never even knew he had. 

The door to the closet swung open slowly, and Harry only registered it because of the shift in light, he couldn’t take his attention away from the box. Under the letters there were some photographs, then old quills, some muggle pens, and other assorted things Sirius had probably forgotten about, that Harry devoured like a starving man. 

A warm, pale hand covered Harry’s right, which he was using to dig up more items out of the box. Harry looked up and over at the intruder, his vision swimming with tears, and wasn’t very surprised to see Draco sitting down next to him. 

“Harry,” Draco said hesitantly, his hand squeezing Harry’s gently. 

Harry nodded and swallowed around the huge lump in his throat. He rotated his hand and entwined his fingers with Draco’s. He studied their joined hands hovering over the relics of his parents’ past, feeling like his heart was flying apart, as though he was both too full and scooped out empty at the same time. “How can I miss something I never had?” he asked, closing his eyes and feeling more tears spill over. 

Draco released Harry’s hand so he could wrap his arm around Harry’s shoulders and pull him into a tight embrace, pressing his lips to the crown of Harry’s head once Harry had leaned into his chest. “Because you keep getting glimpses to who they were, and who they could have been for you.” His words were muffled by Harry’s hair, but Harry could hear how tight Draco’s voice was anyway. Then he squeezed Harry even harder and kissed his head. “They seem like they were lovely people, Harry. I wish we could have met them.” 

Harry nodded into Draco’s chest, knotting his hand in Draco’s shirt and letting the tears come for the family he could have had, for the home he’d lost, and for the family he did have but who hated him just because of what he was and could not change. Draco’s arms were tight around him as Harry’s shoulders shook from the force of his grief, and his tears wet Draco’s shirt completely. He just rocked Harry gently, keeping Harry completely enveloped in his embrace. 

Then, when the tears were easing, and the white hot pain of his grief had ebbed enough for him to feel like he could breathe again, Harry pulled back just enough so he could look up at Draco. “I’m sorry,” he started. 

“Don’t be,” Draco interrupted immediately. “There’s nothing to be sorry about Harry.” Then he shifted forward to press a light kiss to Harry’s forehead, the bit unmarked by his scar, the part that was just all Harry. “I know it’ll never replace them--and I don’t even want to try,” Draco hastened to say. “But, you do have me, Harry, and my mother, and Granger, and the Weasleys,” he said with a slight quirk of his lips and Harry felt his own curl of amusement at how hesitant Draco was to call them by their given names. Draco squeezed Harry again and continued, “The point is, you have us Harry, and we’re happy to be your family.” 

Draco’s words felt a bit like a cooling balm over the scabs he’d just ripped open and Harry gave him a small smile. He would always wonder in some way what it would have been like had things been different, but he was so grateful for those he could call family now. Harry ducked his head, snuggling back into Draco’s embrace, revelling in just being held for the moment, and put a hand over Draco’s steadily beating heart. “Thank you,” he whispered, feeling like the words could not fully convey his gratitude. He looked up through his fringe to see Draco looking down at him with concern and fondness. Harry couldn’t help giving him another smile and saying, “I love you.” 

The answering grin Draco gave him set Harry’s being alight like the brightness of the midday sun. With a finger, Draco tilted Harry’s chin up a little more and said, “I love you too,” before he leaned in to press their lips together in a kiss loaded with the weight of their words. 

 

**15\. Things you said with too many miles between us.**

Harry loved how Draco was following his passion and curiosity by developing new potions and going out to find rare and unknown ingredients. He just wasn’t so much a fan of the long trips Draco would take while on the search for the next perfect item to complete his latest experiment. This time he was out in the grassy wetlands in China, looking for the corpula flower, so rare many thought it to be a myth. But Draco didn’t believe in myths, and said the stamen from the flower would be just what he needed to make a mock up of a potion to identify if someone was under the imperius. Harry didn’t know how Draco could be so sure the flower was what he needed when it was so unheard of, but he knew if anyone could find it, it would be Draco.

It was just awful how long he was away. Neville had gone with him, and Hermione, which was one of the only good things about Draco being away. Since now Ron came over after work almost every day to hang out, saying that his own place was too eerily quiet without Hermione there. Harry knew how he felt, without Draco the house seemed much less welcoming. It was nice to have his best mate come over and help make it feel like home again.

Even so, Harry spent every day eagerly awaiting a new letter from Draco. This morning did not disappoint as a brightly colored bird Harry did not recognize swooped in the window and landed gracefully on the kitchen table before extending its leg where a package was tied. Harry shared some of the fruit he was having for breakfast before he reached to take the package.

Once he untied it, he was surprised to feel lightening charms around it. He took them apart while unwrapping the package and revealed a letter rolled up tight and balancing atop a small but heavy statue wrapped in light paper. Harry pulled away the paper to reveal an intricately carved green dragon. Instead of examining it closer he unrolled the letter and began to read:

_Dear Harry,_

_I know I can’t stop talking about how beautiful it is here, but it is breathtaking and I insist on taking you here soon. We still haven’t found the corpula, but I have a feeling it won’t be long now. Neville disagrees and says I have no way of knowing how close we are, but I’m sure of it. I swear Harry, I can feel it calling me. It wants to be found._

_This morning Neville made friends with a great ugly frog that would put his old Trevor to shame, and I know you’d find it hilarious. Hermione’s hair is quite a fright in this humidity and I promise I’ve taken pictures to show you and Ron once I have time to develop them._

_I miss you terribly. I keep waking up in the night and the shock of not having you next to me is just as strong as it was the first night. I’m sorry this trip is taking so long. I hope you realize that when I come back I am keeping you home with me for at least a week._

_We were traveling through a beautiful village yesterday and they had this charming market full of stalls bursting with things. Hermione said I’m like a magpie since my eye was caught by all the shiny items. But then I found this. It’s jade, and I couldn’t resist it when the color matches your eyes so well. I needed something to keep you close, but I’m afraid I’ll lose it before we return. So please take care of it, and know that I am aching with wanting to be home with you soon._

_Love,  
Draco_

Harry had to swipe at the moisture that was gathering in his eyes. Merlin, he missed Draco something fierce. He just had to keep telling himself that Draco would be home soon.

He reached over and picked up the little dragon, finally giving in to his curiosity to examine it. The carvings in the stone were so intricate and delicate it looked almost like a real, tiny dragon. He ran a finger along the spine of the statue and released a delighted little laugh when the dragon reared its head up and flexed its wings. Harry had thought it was muggle, but he was pleased that he was wrong.

He ran his fingers over the dragon’s spine and felt a little of the ache of missing Draco loosen. Soon, Harry’s real dragon would be home again.

 

**13\. Things you said at the kitchen table.**

The morning after Boxing Day, Harry sleepily stumbled his way into the kitchen. Christmas morning had been spent with Narcissa, but the night and Boxing Day they celebrated at the Burrow. Molly had outdone herself with the food, and George and Lee brought out their best fireworks and tricks for the party. It was a loud, rambunctious celebration that filled the Burrow to bursting. Harry hardly remembered coming home last night, and was a little disappointed when he’d woken to find Draco’s side of the bed already cooling. But Draco was always a bit restless after a night of drinking, so Harry wasn’t surprised he awoke first.

Blearily making way to the kitchen was proving to be a confusing effort, and it was with relief that he finally brushed his hand against the doorjamb before beelining to the table. He stopped when he saw Draco sitting with his knees pulled up in one of the chairs, a book open on the table and a cup of tea steaming next to it. Draco was wearing one of Harry’s old Weasley sweaters, this one was bright blue with a white H large and fading in the centre. It had always been a bit big on Harry, and it was baggy and large on Draco too. Sitting there with his head bent to read, and his hair falling down his forehead and still sleep mussed, Draco looked so heartbreakingly soft.

Harry came over and wrapped his arms around Draco while sitting down in the chair next to him and kissed the top of his head. “Morning,” he said with a voice still rough from sleep.

Draco looked at him with wide surprised eyes. “I didn’t hear you get up,” he said and leaned into Harry’s embrace.

Harry snorted in disbelief, he was pretty sure that his stumbling was louder than a herd of centaurs. He looked down at Draco’s book, intrigued by what had Draco so enthralled. “What are you reading?” He asked while reaching out to pick up the book.

Despite both of them having been seekers, this time Draco was faster and snatched up the book before Harry could touch it. He clutched it to his chest, a bright pink flush blossoming high on his cheeks. “It’s nothing,” he said, too quickly.

Now Harry was even more curious, anything that could make Draco blush so pretty was something Harry needed to know. “Oh really?” He asked with a teasing tone and pressed his face close to Draco’s. “Are you sure you don’t want to share?”

Draco turned to give Harry a flat look. “Yes. You’ll be horrible about it.”

"You can’t just say that and expect me to let it go, Draco." Harry said and squeezed his arms tighter around Draco, trying to get his hands on the book.

"No wait, stop Harry." Draco said and twisted out of Harry’s grasp. He put the book face down on the table, but Harry could see the looping script on the back cover and a wreath of roses decorating the bottom. He’d bet anything it was one of those romance novels he often saw Luna reading. Draco turned to fully face him then and Harry’s attention was diverted by the serious look on his face. "This isn’t how I wanted this morning to go," he said and started to worry his lower lip with his teeth. He tugged on the bottom hem of Harry’s jumper, gaze diverted before he looked back up at Harry with a nervous smile.

"What’s going on, Draco?" Harry asked, feeling a little worried over Draco’s strange behaviour.

Draco blew out a frustrated breath and started speaking quickly. “It’s never seemed like the perfect time. Every time I think it might be something just isn’t right. I thought about doing this yesterday, but even though they’re your family I thought it might be too much of a spectacle for you and—”

"Hey, slow down," Harry said with a gentle smile and grabbed Draco’s hands in his to rub soothing circles into the skin.

Draco shot him a fond, loving look and took in a deep breath before taking his hands back so he could dig in the right sleeve of the sweater. He pulled out a small box, and Harry’s heart beat thundered in his ears when he cottoned on to what it was. Draco smiled nervously at him again and held the box, closed, in the small space between their bodies.

He swallowed audibly and said, “Harry, ever since I first met you, you’ve challenged me. As a wizard, as a seeker, and you’ve challenged me to think outside what my father taught me. You’ve helped me grow so much into someone that I like, and,” Draco gave Harry a sly look. “I hope I have helped you in return.”

"Of course you have." Harry interrupted vehemently.

Draco gave him a sweet smile then and said, “Let me finish. You’ve shown me love and kindness beyond anything I have ever known or expected. Harry, I know we still have a lot of growing to do, but I want to do it all together.” Draco opened the box now, revealing a shining braided silver band inside. “Harry Potter, will you marry me?”

Harry could feel tears welling in his eyes and he couldn’t stop the huge grin from spread across his face even if he wanted to, which he certainly did not. He grabbed Draco’s free hand and squeezed it hard. “Yes,” he said with a laugh. “Yes, of course I want to marry you Draco.” Harry pulled him forward for a deep kiss, trying to pour all the happiness he felt in that moment into the presses of their lips and tongues together. He felt like his heart had wings and he was soaring with happiness.

Draco broke off the kiss so he could take Harry’s hand and slip the ring on his finger, it fit perfectly. When he looked up at Harry he was wearing a mirror to the giddy smile Harry was sure he was wearing. “Thank you,” Draco said in an amazed whisper, as though even after everything they’d been through together, he still couldn’t believe Harry could love him like this.

Harry could only shake his head slightly before pulling Draco into another kiss. They were going to get married! He could hardly keep a hold on his excitement.

 


End file.
